


Breathe, Stop

by elentiya



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Victor Katniss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 21:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13350069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elentiya/pseuds/elentiya
Summary: Katniss can be selfish. She can be brave. Let her be stubborn, brilliant, beautiful. Let her be those things with Finnick.





	Breathe, Stop

And maybe- Maybe if he had stayed. Had lived. If she had stayed. If they had stayed together. Had fought together. They would have endured. They would have lived a full life. Not Just-Katniss living, half cursed.  
Maybe they wouldn’t have lived happily, but- They would have lived.

That would have been enough.

It had been simple flirtation (at first). Fleeting looks, enduring.  
She felt the heat of his gaze of his lips of his thoughts.  
His eyes.  
Sea brilliant and dark storms.  
Electric-lightning on ocean waters. Her gaze fire hot, rippling oceans, skies, lands.  
Ravaging. Searing. Scarred skin on scarred skin.

She had been set ablaze in the eyes of all- the fire made her so much more than extraordinary.  
And he basked in it.  
He was happy to step into her emblazoned hues.  
She was happy, if only for a second (in typical Katniss Everdeen fashion).  
To cool.  
To breathe.

For him.

(It was only ever for him.)

She dreamt of him. Or rather, of things that reminded her of him. She had seen him before the victory tour. Of course she had, everyone had. That brilliant grin, that cocked smirk. Confident eyes. Finnick Odair had taken the Capitol by storm and she had tracked his progress in the year before her volunteering. When her family had food to eat. Then. And only then, did Katniss Everdeen stop to think selfishly.

The Victory Tour, when she had been with Peeta dancing in the sea salt of District 4, she had looked to his polar opposite, and had found his stare boring holes into her skull. She hadn’t smiled. Had just looked right back. That had been the first interaction.

The second meeting had come at the chariots. The sugar cubes. The net. She’d looked. Of course she had. Who hadn’t?  
Katniss flushed, then he’d noticed. She’d asked him later on if it bothered him. He asked her if it bothered her- beautiful and witty as she.  
‘People like to look at beautiful things Katniss. It’s all we are to them.’  
His mouth had quirked- anything but the television smiles, ‘it’s funny that this is all our lives are.’  
She’d looked up, up, up at the sky, ‘yes. Funny.’ They had been in the middle of nowhere- a place where they’d all thought burnt and done and still, still she had expected the hovercraft to loom in, bundle them up and send them for another round to finish each other off. The Capitol would not be satisfied by missing toys, the Capitol required things returned and proper and if they did not come by choice they would cut up the dolls hair, scratch out some eyes an- oh. Breathe. Stop. 

The third time had been the training room. He’d gotten close. For a moment she leaned back and then she reacted. She knew he’d noticed her momentary lapse. Finnick Odair had a purpose for every little thing and she knew he knew. They’d met up after that. Once. It had been enough to confuse her and send her stumbling towards the arena. She still loved Peeta- of course, who didn’t? He deserved the world- strong, beautiful, patient Peeta. Peeta. She would do this for him, she would kill Finnick for Peeta.

The fourth encounter had been in the arena. She would have shot him too. For Peeta. Pure and good and solid- Peeta, the light and comfort to her tumultuous life, he deserved more. She knew if she didn’t end him there, she wouldn’t be able to do it later. By then she knew he would worm his way in. Past the rotting corpses of her Father of Glimmer, of Marvel, of Rue, of Thresh, of Cato… Breathe. Stop. To the decaying wooden slats that characterised her home- where she hadn’t had the chance to leave, where she was stuck- entrapped- enraptured. She looked into those eyes, to the bracelet, and even though she knew- she goddamn knew there was only saving one- she put down her bow, she hesitated. And then she let him safe her life.

Later, when Peeta fell. Then. Then she had thought a horrible thing. It had been a second where she had thought of helping Finnick- brash and beautiful Finnick by not helping Peeta- but then the pure adrenaline panic had clawed her heart and she had fallen forward sobbing ‘peeta, Peeta, PEETA.’

She had watched Finnick save another life.

In doing so, she had felt it right to offer hers for his. She was stuck in her head after that. Tired, thirsty and dying from the ugly unfurling thing in her soul that had not been there since the day she had picked up that dandelion. Dandelion. Peeta.

She was confusing herself- her loyalties. She wouldn’t be here for this if not for Peeta, the boy with the bread. Her boy with the bread. Kind eyes soft smiles gentle hands. She stroked honeyed hair off his forehead and sat in wait. Her and Finnick. The gods were laughing. She’s looking everywhere. but. him. And he’s looking at (everything) of her. She feels his gaze. Bright brilliant boring into her brai- Breathe. Stop.

‘You’re meant to be keeping watch. So am I.’ She doesn’t look at him when she says it. She looks deep into the lush unrelenting jungle.

‘You seem to be doing plenty of that Katniss. And yet..’ He trails off and she doesn’t know if it’s the humidity or dehydration or if she’s altogether lost it but he looks particularly stunning in this dew.

‘Just go to sleep Finnick. If you’re not paying attention might as well do something worthwhile.’ She huffs out a tired breath.

He smiles. It’s not soft. It’s not familiar. It sparks something small. Something… Different…?

‘I make a habit of doing the worthwhile, Katniss.’ And oh, why does he always have to say her name? She wouldn’t get tired of hearing it leave his lips, but wasn’t that the problem? Coupled with thick innuendo she’s lucky the heat excuses the red taking residence of her face. 

‘Goodnight Finnick.’

***

They’re running and panting, Mags gone, all lost all forgotten. They’re heaving Peeta and stumbling around in the dark-unforgiving. Fog. Had she not had the moments hesitation had she not sto- Breathe. Stop.

Twitching limbs, aching throat, blurred eyes they make it. She screams she swims. She drags and pulls Finnick, Peeta helps. It’s a weird thing working united- she can almost imagine- Stop.

She watches him become reanimated and she waits. She waits for normal. 

It doesn’t come.

Monkeys do.

***

She trudges along and then she hears that scream. Prim. Prim. She follows, she doesn’t stumble.  
Finnick follows, he doesn’t stumble. He’s grabbing her shoulder but his words- they don’t make sense. They don’t make sense. Nothing’s making sense- she’d make it make sense. She shoots that blasted bird. And then she finds out that Finnick has a Peeta- Finnick has an Annie.  
She had suspected- when she heard that poem. But then she had written it off as a crowd pleaser. But he had really meant it- he loved this girl this Annie. She had his heart. But Katniss had his soul.

She shot another bird.

They fall against a solid invisible force, they fall to the ground and throughout it all, they press forehead against forehead and look into similarly hurt eyes. ‘Breathe. Stop. Katniss, Breathe.’ The words past Finnicks lips pull her through the raw screams. Peeta wasn’t able to help her today. That was her fault. Never his. Never beautiful, smart, princely Peeta.

Finally, there comes silence, but they don’t stop. She can’t remember when she last blinked. She can’t remember.

‘Katniss.’ A soft hand on her shoulder, ‘Katniss.’ Peeta’s calling her home. (But is it home anymore?)

She releases her tough hand from the back of Finnick’s neck and feels his, callused and somehow, now- familiar, move from hers in response.  
She looks at him once more, then, then her eyes move backwards. ‘Peeta.’

He helps her up and she’s in his arms and it’s different.  
She hasn’t decided if it’s the good kind or bad kind yet.

***

She’s sitting in a white hospital gown in a white hospital room. District 13. They find each-other. Damaged flesh on damaged flesh. Closets and rooms and dark.

He teaches her knots, she teaches him what little she knows of love. She thinks both skills are weighed ‘round the same- an even trade.

Then comes Annie, then comes Peeta. (Except- he’s not really Peeta is he?)

Then comes Annie and Finnick. Then comes the good-bye kiss. Bittersweet. Then comes marriage. She remembers how he tastes.

After that. They’re back where they started. Looks enduring. Or. Well. He’s back where they started but she has no one. She has Prim and her mother- this is when the hospital doesn’t have Prim and her mother. She has Gale- this is when Coin and Beetee don’t have Gale. And she certainly doesn’t have Peeta as hard as she tries. Haymitch is out drying up somewhere without alcohol to dry up what was left of his mind. So Katniss, Katniss is alone. 

She thinks it’s kind of something she deserves. 

***

It’s after. After death. She feels like he took a part of her with him, even though she wasn’t his to take. She was being selfish again. This was Annie’s loss. This was Annie’s loss, and her son’s loss. His son’s loss.

She remembers the last moments. Remembers thinking about those dolls again. Beaten, scratched up. Dead. She remembers stolen kisses, dark love and forever comfort.

It’s her fault he’s dead.

He’d saved her life again.

**Author's Note:**

> Unedited, let me know your thoughts. Is it confusing? Not flowing? Did you like it? Hate it? First posted work, let me know. :).


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